Free The Alpine Quilt by Mary Daheim

according to Sam. The place was really torn up. The funny thing was that nothing of value seemed to have been taken.”
    Vida was standing by her desk, tucking in the red-and-white-striped blouse that had inched its way out of her gray skirt. “I thought the Pikes weren’t leaving until today.”
    I told her they’d changed their minds and had spent the night at the airport. Turning back to Scott, I asked if the Pikes had been informed.
    “Dodge managed to have them paged at the airport,” he replied. “They don’t take off until around noon. Mrs. Pike said they wouldn’t cancel the trip if nothing seemed to be missing. Roy Everson’s going to fix the window for them and try to straighten things up before they get back.”
    Puzzled, I shook my head. “This doesn’t sound like the usual MO.”
    Scott agreed. “The others have been quickies. The burglar gets inside, grabs whatever looks like it could be fenced, and takes off.”
    “I don’t suppose,” Vida put in, “that the Eversons saw anything. Roy may be the postal supervisor, but he lives in his own little world. And Bebe is even worse. I wonder sometimes if she doesn’t have early Alzheimer’s.”
    That seemed a trifle harsh. Bebe was the vivacious type with a short attention span.
    “The fact is,” Scott said, sitting down in his swivel chair, “Sam isn’t sure when the break-in happened. Roy was at work all day, and Bebe went into Monroe for the afternoon. Neither of them got home until after six. It gets dark a lot earlier than that this time of year, especially when it’s raining.”
    Vida also sat down. “Maud Dodd lives on the other side of the Pikes. She hardly ever comes out of the house anymore. Arthritis, you know. As for Ethel and Pike, I can’t imagine what they’d have that was worth stealing. The last time I was in their house they still had a black-and-white TV.”
    “Then they still have it,” Scott said, grinning.
    Vida rested her chin on her hands and tapped her cheeks with her fingers. “Yes.” She was looking thoughtful, even a bit worried.
    Maybe she was thinking about Beth. Whatever the cause of her mood shift, I couldn’t let it gnaw at me. This was Tuesday, and we had a paper to put out.
    Scott went off to take pictures of both the Shaw and the Pike houses. He’d already photographed the previous break-in sites. We could run the most recent shots on page two, with a jump from page one. For now, the burglaries were our lead story.
    “ ‘Scene,’ ” Vida said, just as I was heading into my office after checking the wire service. “I have two items from Ginny and one from Leo. I need four more.”
    “How about you?” I asked.
    “You mean my trip to Tacoma to take care of Beth?” Vida frowned. “Isn’t that self-serving?”
    “We ran an item about Leo a few years back when he slid downhill on the ice and sprained his ankle,” I countered. “In September, you all but announced Scott and Tammy’s engagement before they did.”
    “I merely hinted,” Vida said with a sniff. “How did I put it? ‘Which beautiful educator and which handsome journalist are hearing the tinkle of wedding bells in the distance?’ Or something like that.”
    “I don’t think you wrote
tinkle,
” I said dryly. “At least, I hope not.”
    “You’re not helping me,” Vida admonished.
    I thought back over the weekend. I’d love to announce that my son was coming home, but that would definitely be self-serving, as if I had to see it in print to believe it. Anyway, it was a two-inch item for Vida’s page when he got here. Or maybe twelve inches. Adam and his Alaskan adventures were worth a feature, publisher’s son or not.
    “We’re in a bind,” I admitted. “It’d be inappropriate to use the Pikes’ early departure, because it’d sound as if they were to blame for the break-in. We should avoid the Burl Creek Thimble Party’s event for Gen, since she died a day later. How about mentioning the old-time photos at the